


Laura

by ScatteredWords



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hollstein - Freeform, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScatteredWords/pseuds/ScatteredWords
Summary: Silas University, in picturesque Styria. Where nothing, not even the homecoming goat sacrifice, will stop freshman Carmilla Karnstein from coasting through college with a minimum of effort. But the plan hits a snag when her missing roommate is replaced by a mysterious girl named Laura. Between shadowy conspiracies, unfortunate crushes, and bloodstained TARDIS mugs, Carmilla may have gotten more than she'd bargained for. (Role reversal AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love role reversal AUs, but what if their basic personalities stayed the same? I couldn't shake the image of broody human Carmilla and perky 300-year-old vampire Laura, and this was the result.

The camera clicked on.

A small room came into view, dimly lit by a single lamp with an embroidered leather shade. It rested atop a shelf, behind a narrow bed to the left of the screen. That side of the room looked as though a tornado had blown through: burgundy sheets and black coverlet flung haphazardly over the bed, piles of black clothing obscuring the floor, books steepled open on every flat surface. If it was a disaster area, though, the right side was almost worse, a nightmare of pink fabric, plastic beads, and dirty makeup brushes.  
At the head of this semi-organized chaos sat a girl. She glanced at the viewfinder and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“God. Do I really have to do this?” She sighed and sat up straighter, raking a hand through her dark curls. “Professor Cochrane, let the record show that I consider this cruel and unusual punishment.” A moment later, “Oh. Right.”

A lower third appeared in the bottom left-hand corner. **Carmilla Karnstein** , it read. **Journalism 102. Professor E. Cochrane.**

The girl rubbed her eyes, slightly smudging the heavy black liner. “This is my project. A month in the life, like you said. You also said to come up with a ‘snazzy title,’ but frankly that seems like a waste of time. So let’s just call it Carmilla and pretend I’m being profound, okay?”

Her low voice continued as a series of pictures slowly cycled across the screen. “I guess this is the introduction. I’m Carmilla. I live in bumfu- the middle of nowhere, Austria, with my dad. I’m a freshman at Silas University, quite possibly the most bizarre school in this bizarre region of a bizarre country.”

A photo of a large brick house on the side of a hill, with blue-shuttered windows. Wrought iron gates, all spikes and spirals, in grainy black and white. The Austrian flag.

The dorm room filled the screen again, with Carmilla glaring wearily at the camera. She raised her eyebrows. “Besides the library occasionally eating hapless alchemy students- and the fact that this school still offers alchemy, several centuries after it stopped being a legitimate science –college is college wherever you go.”

“So that’s my life,” she concluded. “And the end of this episode, unless-”

The door banged open. A tall, blonde girl in a denim miniskirt swept into the room with a loud, “Heeeeeeeey, Carm!”

Carmilla’s expression could have felled a rhino. “-unless Betty comes back.”

With a grin, the blonde plopped down on her bed and pulled Carmilla’s desk chair closer. “Whatcha doing? Becoming a famous YouTuber or something?”

“A project for journalism class,” Carmilla replied. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hey, I might have to sign a release or something.” Betty pouted and preened for the camera. “One of your viewers might be an MTV producer and fall in love with my face,” she purred in a mock-sultry voice.

Carmilla stared straight ahead, expression deadpan. “Professor Cochrane, meet Betty ‘Jaegerbombinatrix’ Spielsdorf. AKA my roommate.”

“Rhinefeldt-Spielsdorf!” Betty trilled, and threw up devil’s horns with one hand.

“Betty Rhinefeldt-Spielsdorf,” Carmilla said. “I stand corrected.”

Betty rose and sashayed over to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. “You also stand underdressed. North Quad mixer’s tonight and I am not letting you sit here brooding for the zillionth night in a row.”

“Betty,” Carmilla said to the camera, “seems to be laboring under the delusion that we are friends.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t you have something improbably colored to chug? Far, far away from here?” A note of exaggerated innocence crept into Carmilla’s voice.

Still clutching a metallic spandex minidress in each hand, Betty turned to face her roommate. “Listen,” she said, “It is my roommately duty to see that you have some fun. You know, fun? That thing college is supposed to be?”

“You assume I consider making a fool of myself with a bunch of lackwits fun,” Carmilla shot back. The cap sleeves of her loose gray tunic top fluttered as she crossed her arms. “If that’s your thing, fine. Just don’t expect me to join.”

The room fell silent, save for the quiet whirring of the computer fan. A sly smile crept across Betty’s face. She tiptoed closer to the desk chair, and by extension the camera, crouching down as she approached so her lips ended up inches from Carmilla’s ear.

“Danny will be there,” she whispered.

Carmilla blinked. “Who?”

“Danny!” Betty cried, straightening and throwing up her hands in exasperation. “You know, that cute lit TA? The ginger one? You guys would make the best couple!”

“I say again- who?”

“She’s gay!”

“Oh right!” Carmilla said. “Gay Danny! Of course! I saw her that one time at the meeting of the Global Lesbian Cabal!” She snorted. “For your straight friends’ sake, I hope you’re better at matchmaking them.”

Betty held up a teal dress covered in feathers and stared at herself in the mirror. Finally, she heaved a sigh. “You’re missing out bigtime.”

Toying with the cover of a leather-bound tome on her desk, Carmilla replied, “I’ll survive somehow.” She stared into the camera as Betty brushed past her into the bathroom. 

“That’s my life. Welcome to the fun.”

Her face froze for a second. A jump-cut. 

The same room was now somewhat less gloomy, with sunlight streaming through a window next to the wardrobe. Carmilla remained in front of the camera, hair now somewhat more tousled and eyes bleary, in an oversized black t-shirt that read “AMARANTHE.” She squinted at the screen bemusedly- then groaned.

“Oh, for f- have you been on all night?” 

Leaning forward, she clicked something and sighed. “Yep. This piece of crap will probably be dead by the end of the semester.”

A lump beneath the zebra-striped quilt on the righthand bed caught her eye. She scooted her chair back from the desk until she sat even with where the pillow presumably lay.

“Hey. Party animal. You alive under there?” She poked the lump, which didn’t move. 

“Hello? Madam Rhinefeldt-Spielsdorf?”

No response.

Blowing her breath out in a huff, Carmilla stood. “Come on. Let's get the hungover moaning out of the way.” She grabbed one edge of the comforter and whisked it aside. 

A tangle of blankets lay beneath, but no Betty.

“Huh,” said Carmilla. “That's weird.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why this was marked as completed; I have every intention of going at least to the end of s1. We'll see if I manage it, but that's the general idea. Never realized just how short the episodes are before, so there should end up being 36 relatively short chapters. Again, though, let's not count chickens before I've actually disciplined myself to sit down and write them all.

“Okay, so after that deeply disgusting encounter with what passes for bureaucracy at Silas University, I am left with this.”

Carmilla wiped her left hand on her jeans, scrubbing hard, then lifted a soggy-looking yellow notecard from the desk and held it up to the camera. Lines of close, small print were visible for a brief second before she pulled it back.

“It’s multiple choice, and until five seconds ago, it was covered in what looked like mucus.” She snorted, glanced at the camera, and began to read aloud.

“ ‘Dear student,

Your roommate no longer attends Silas University. He or she:

A. Lost his or her scholarship and decided to go home,  
B. Has elected to attend another school due to your extreme incompatibility,  
C. Experienced a psychological event that left him or her unfit for student life, or  
D. Cited personal reasons and, really, why does anyone do anything?

Exit procedures have commenced. No action on your part is required.’ ”

With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. “So either all those Four Lokos went to her head or Miss Jaegerbombinatrix really couldn’t take living with me.”

Carmilla paused for a moment. Her chair turned just the smallest fraction, as if being pushed by her out-of-frame foot against a desk leg. She eyed Betty’s empty bed, with its deceptively-piled hot pink sheets. Her gaze flickered from the bed to the notecard a few times. Then, as if remembering its presence, she turned back to the camera.

“Well, guess that’s one problem solved,” she said nonchalantly, and crumpled up the card. It soon joined what looked like a veritable snowstorm of note-paper on the floor behind her.

A jump-cut.

This Carmilla was anything but nonchalant, wearing an eye-searing pink shirt marked “BETTY” and a scowl. The window behind her showed darkness broken by a single streetlight, but only one lamp illuminated the room- the one without what appeared to be Mardi Gras beads draped over the shade.

“So apparently certain people in this dorm have excellent hearing.” Blowing out her breath in a huff, she glared at the camera.

“Still contemplating whether this counts as cruel and unusual punishment, Professor Cochrane. Because I spent the day having to deal with Perry, the Floor Don.”

A picture appeared in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen: a girl with barely-tamed, bushy red curls and a plaid Oxford shirt straight out of the 1980s. Carmilla sat up straighter in her chair, wiggled her shoulders, and widened her eyes as far as they would go.

“ ‘You know, Carmilla, you really should have told me your roommate was missing,’ ” she chirped in clear imitation of the Floor Don pictured. “ ‘How else will student housing know to assign you a new one?’ ” Flopping back in the chair, she raked a hand through her dark bangs. “Apparently,” she said in her own voice, “a single woman in possession of some damn peace and quiet must be in want of yet another roommate. Maybe a nice mute this time? Or someone who lives at their partner’s dorm across campus?”

With that and a few clicking sounds, rock guitar riffs flooded the room. A female singer announced that someone named Joe Godsil thought he was “gas” as Carmilla opened what appeared to be a copy of the _Psychopathia Sexualis_ and settled down to read. One finger tapped the back of the battered old book in time with the music, and but for the occasional snort of laughter, she fell totally silent.

A moment later, the door opened a few tentative inches. Then a few more. Finally, when it became apparent that the room’s occupant hadn’t noticed, it swung open all the way. A girl stood in the doorway, honey-brunette and wearing a TARDIS t-shirt and, frankly, _tiny_. She poked her head into the room.

“Hi?” Her voice was barely audible over the music. 

“Hello?” A bit louder this time, but still Carmilla didn’t look up. 

The girl cleared her throat. “Excuse me!” she half-shouted with a volume that belied her size. At last, Carmilla tore her gaze from the book.

“Hey, cutie. You lost?”

“No,” the newcomer replied, still on the verge of a scream, “I’m your new- um. Could you maybe turn that down?” She gestured to the computer, still blaring its ode to a suburban husband who didn’t smoke weed. Carmilla raised an eyebrow, but stabbed the volume button a few times until the song faded to a dull roar.

New Girl smiled. “Thanks. Anyway, I’m your new roommate. Laura. Hi!”

Carmilla pressed her lips together, staring into the middle distance for a moment. Then, disdain practically dripping from every word, she ground out, “You have got. To be kidding me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot- and the substance in the milk container -thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the glacial update pace. I've been busy but also my motivation is completely absent right now.

“Beg your pardon?”

Laura smiled and dropped her duffle bag on the floor beside the vacant bed. “Your new roommate! The housing office noticed you were here all, you know, roommate-less, so here I am.” She unzipped the bag and began removing a truly alarming number of button-downs as Carmilla spluttered, lost for words.

Finally, her jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, she said, “I already have a roommate.”

“Oh? They told me she transferred.” Laura paused in the process of meticulously folding a Hufflepuff t-shirt. 

Carmilla shook her head. “Transferred, left, vanished off the face of the earth, whatever. I don’t know. All I know is that I finally got rid of her.”

“Did you pay for a single?” Laura asked.

“No,” Carmilla replied with a snort. “Like I’m going to give into that kind of extortion.”

“So you have a roommate. That’s just how it works.” 

Carmilla looked Laura up and down, arms folded over her chest. Laura looked back. For a moment, extreme awkwardness reigned, to a soundtrack of The Donnas as Carmilla’s playlist clicked forward. Laura broke the silence at last.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m going to leave grime all over the bathroom or use your stuff or anything,” she said with a forced laugh. “I have my own chore wheel! It’ll be fine!”

She held up a cardboard circle, with segments marked in bright colors and an outer rim that listed chores. Each segment bore her name and Carmilla’s, alternating and written in a looping script.

Carmilla’s expression as she looked into the camera was that of a woman facing the gallows.

\----------------------------------------------

A jump-cut. Carmilla came into view, sitting at her computer wearing a filmy black minidress and a scowl. Behind her, half of the room had become a model of order and DIY Harry Potter merchandise. A neatly-folded tan quilt replaced Betty’s disheveled pink sheets, with a sunny yellow pillow precisely placed at the head of the bed. On the shelf sat a row of alphabetized books and a mug shaped like a blue police call box. Nothing less like Carmilla’s candlelit trainwreck of a bed could be imagined.

She stared at the camera for a few seconds, then heaved a heavy sigh. “Professor Cochrane, I’m starting to think this is against the Geneva Convention.”

Footage filled the screen, clearly taken without the subject’s knowledge. Said subject: one tiny brunette roommate. Carmilla’s voice narrated each clip.

“This girl is a nightmare. She’s the nerd equivalent of a 1950s housewife.”

Laura silently vacuumed the floor, then set about scrubbing every flat surface in the room. Her lips moved slightly, giving the impression that she might be singing to herself. Once the scrub brush was neatly placed back in the plastic caddy under her desk, she pulled out construction paper and began weaving strips together to form a black and yellow border. At time-lapse speed, she stapled said border around her bulletin board.

“That being said, she eats like a prepubescent boy.”

Laura sat at her desk, night sky visible outside the window, with a stack of chocolate chip cookies and a can of grape soda. Staring at her laptop screen, she lifted two cookies and shoved them in her mouth mechanically. The glow from the screen reflected off her glazed brown eyes, rapidly flickering in blues and whites.

“I’ve never seen her eat anything but snack products and soda, which probably means she’ll keel over before I have to kick her out.” Carmilla’s voiced paused. “Small mercies.”

A new, pajama-clad Laura appeared onscreen, stretching and yawning in bed as afternoon sun slanted in through the window. She swung her legs over the side, shuffled into her slippers, and practically skipped to the bathroom.

“Merry Sunshine, weirdly enough, doesn’t rise until late in the afternoon, usually around 2 PM. She has only afternoon and evening classes, proving once and for all that there is a god because I had her pegged for a morning person.”

Another shot of the room at night appeared, this time with Carmilla lying on her bed wrapped around a blonde girl. Their lips were locked passionately, hands roving over each other’s bodies- until the door burst open and Laura strode in. Though the video had no sound, it was clear from her rapid speech and sharp gestures that she was not pleased.

“Despite having a girlfriend of her own, apparently blessed with a single room, the Mistress of the Night does not approve of anyone else’s amorous liasons. Even at night in their own bed.”

The montage stopped, replaced once again with Carmilla’s exasperated face. “So that’s my life now. Passive-aggressive hints about the chore wheel, endless cleaning, the constant smell of Bad Wolf soda, and leaving room for Jesus.” 

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the chair away from the desk and stood up. She stretched, exposing a strip of bare skin between her thigh-high black socks and the hem of her dress, and wandered over to the minifridge. She opened the door, reached for something- then stopped. Stared. Bent down and squinted at something in the black metal box. Slowly, with a puzzled expression, she pulled out a cardboard carton labeled “SOY TASTY SOYMILK.” A piece of masking tape sat just below the printed words, with one word on it in neat handwriting.

“Laura,” Carmilla read aloud. With a shrug, she unscrewed the cap, raised the carton to her lips, and took a sip.

Her eyes widened, and for a second she stood frozen in place. Then, she walked slowly to the trash can and, with a glance back at the camera, angled her body so her back was to it. She hunched over the can, clearly spitting something out. When she turned back, her lips were stained a deep, purple-ish red. She let out a shaky breath. 

“So, I- I think that was human blood.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one week? It's almost like the author made a New Year's resolution to write more. We'll see how long this lasts.

A red-haired person of indeterminate gender stood beside Carmilla’s desk and frowned at the soy milk container. They lifted it and took a long sniff. 

“Well, it smells like blood, but how can you be sure it’s human?” they asked.

Carmilla’s eyes widened. “Because I tasted it, nitwit!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as if the temptation to strangle her fellow student was too strong to bear. “I’ve lost teeth and licked cuts and I know what human blood tastes like!”

“Whoa. Calm down, Crazy Eyes.” They took a step back, half-turning to avoid bumping into Laura’s bed. “It might just be, you know, pig blood or something. We really can’t know for sure without some tests.”

“Pig blood? Really?” Carmilla raised an eyebrow before adding, “I’ve eaten blood sausage. I know what pig blood tastes like, and this stuff never saw the inside of a hog.”

As soon as the redhead set the cardboard carton down, she picked it up and began looking it over. She too sniffed the open spout.

“Look. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I am telling you that my new, prissy roommate has a soy milk carton full of human blood in our minifridge. So the least you can do, Miss LaFontaine, is help me figure out whether I’m about to become the next victim of a latter-day Countess Bathory.”

LaFontaine blinked. They appeared to be mulling something over for a few seconds. Then, they squared their shoulders and headed for the door at a pace that made their plaid flannel flare out like a tiny Superman cape.

“Oh, and where are you going now?” Carmilla asked sharply.

“Getting Perry,” they called over their shoulder. They paused in the doorway. “Oh, and please don’t call me ‘miss.’ ”

“What? No-”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A jump-cut. LaFontaine was back and with them stood another redhead, this one clearly female with wild coppery curls tumbling over the Peter Pan collar of her perfectly-pressed shirt. An astute viewer would recognize her as Perry, the aforementioned and previously pictured floor don. She was staring down, lips pursed, at Carmilla. Who, for her part, looked like she’d rather be having major dental surgery.

“But that’s absurd.”

“It’s really not.”

“There’s no way it could be human blood. How would she get access to human blood?”

“You tell me. You’re what passes for authority around here.”

Now it was Perry’s turn to pick up and smell the offending Soy Tasty. She immediately made a face and practically threw it back onto the table with a little squeal.

“Well, yes,” she said, sniffing and collecting herself, “it does smell a bit…tangy. Have you considered pig’s blood?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I’ll tell you what I told Dr. LaF-enstein here: I have tasted pig’s blood. That is not pig’s blood. That is bona fide, grade-A human plasma.”

LaFontaine squinted at her. “Has anyone ever asked you if you’re a member of the hemophagic revenant community?”

“What?” she asked sharply.

“Nothing.”

“Listen, Carmilla,” Perry cut in, “if you’re really having problems with your roommate, communication is key. I’ve met Laura once or twice and she seems like a reasonable girl. Actually, she’s quite friendly.”

“Reasonable?” Carmilla stood so quickly that her chair rocked back on its casters. “Friendly?” She advanced as LaF and Perry quickly retreated.

Once she had them cornered against Laura’s bed, she growled, “You listen. In the past week, I have had the joy of a single and even the cold comfort of a roommate who’s constantly out partying ripped away. I have put up with the constant Veronica Mars marathons, the waxing of the bathroom floors, and the endless passive-aggressive snipes about my music volume. I have given this girl every reasonable chance, so excuse me for not wanting to share a room with little miss Jacques de St-Germain.”

She stalked back to her chair and dropped into it. For a moment, the only sound was the dripping faucet in the bathroom. Then, LaF spoke.

“Who’s-”

“A man from the 1920s who was found to have bottles of human blood in his cellar,” Carmilla snapped. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

Raking her bangs back from her face, she turned to Perry. “How do I get rid of this girl? And don’t give me any more bullshit about communication.”

“Well…” Perry’s eyes darted around the room as if seeking a place to hide. “If Betty came back, she’d have to move out. It’s school policy.”

“There’s a school policy for vanishing roommates?”

Perry nodded. “Oh yes. It’s all in the handbook. Any prior claim on housing space preempts a later claim.”

“Well, I guess if there’s an American-style university in the middle of Austria, it can run itself however it wants.” Carmilla said with a shrug. She picked up a pencil and began unconsciously walking it through her fingers. “So you’re saying I have to find Betty to get rid of Nerdy McVampire?”

“She’s not a vampire,” Perry scoffed, “that would be ridiculous. But yes, Betty’s prior claim would force her out of the room.”

“And hey, at least Betty’s not some dracopyromaniac,” LaF chimed in. They chuckled and nudged Perry, who shook her head but cracked a half-smile.

“Please tell me that’s a colorful nickname for a Dungeons and Dragons nut,” Carmilla said. When neither the floor don nor her companion responded, she raised an eyebrow , opened her mouth to speak, then appeared to think better of it.

“So now we’re on party animal herding duty. Great.”

“It won’t be that bad.” Perry gingerly wiped some crumbs off a corner of Carmilla’s bed and perched on the edge. “Betty will probably be back soon and then Laura will have to move out.”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” LaF added.

“That’s what happened to all the other girls who disappeared!”

Perry’s hand flew to her lips as if belatedly trying to hold back her last statement. Her smile slowly vanished, replaced by an apologetic grimace as LaF shot her a startled look. Carmilla just sat back in her chair, hands laced behind her head, clearly waiting for an explanation.


End file.
